


I'll Be Okay, Pal

by perpetualjoy (optijoy)



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optijoy/pseuds/perpetualjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was something that happened to law enforcers. Being killed in the line of duty was a hazard that everyone understood. It wasn’t a pleasant hazard, but it happened. It just wasn’t supposed to happen to Dick Gumshoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Okay, Pal

It always happened the same way. A person from his past, an acquaintance usually, would stumble onto his crime scene (always a crime scene; didn’t people in Los Angeles know that crime scenes weren’t free-for-all entertainment spots?), and say hello.

Then, invariably, they would eventually ask about the detective.

* * *

_Newly-minted homicide detective Ema Skye stormed into his office._

_“Obviously, people have forgotten the common courtesy of knocking,” Edgeworth muttered._

_Ema ignored the quip and threw a newspaper on his desk. “Did you know Landon Vance was released from prison on a technicality?!”_

_“I was made aware of that, yes.”_

_Ema slammed both her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “He wants you dead because of that trial 10 years ago!”_

_“I know all of that, Ms. Skye. I’ll have security detail with me on the way home, and I’m sure the prosecutor’s office security will suffice for now._

_She marched out of his office in a huff, vowing to find someone who would take this seriously._

_And she did._

* * *

The appallingly clingy Wendy Oldbag, who yet again turned up during one of his investigations, said, “Finally dumped that bulky good-for-nothing whippersnapper detective, huh? And that annoying girl with the ponytail. _I_ could be your partner Edgey-poo. After all, I have a long history in crime fighting…”

Edgeworth left her to babble. He expected that she had not yet drawn breath.

* * *

 

_Not five minutes later did Gumshoe come rushing in, firearm ablaze._

_“Detective! Put your gun away, now.”_

_“Ema said you were in a bunch of trouble, sir.” He sheepishly pocketed the weapon and scratched the back of his head._

_Edgeworth exhaled._

_“She may have… exaggerated a bit.”_

_“Well, I ain’t leaving here all day.”_

_“Please spare yourself the tedium.”_ And me _, Edgeworth thought._

* * *

“Hey, where’s Gumshoe?” Larry asked.

“Butz, it would behoove you to read a newspaper once in a while,” Edgeworth snapped, and walked away.  

* * *

 

_At the end of the day, they walked down to the parking garage entrance together. A security guard was waiting nearby. “He’ll take care of me from now on, detective,” Edgeworth said._

_“Are you sure Mr. Edgeworth?”_

_“I’m sure, Detective.”_

_And then the lights in the parking garage extinguished. Edgeworth could hear a scuffle and a sickening crack followed by the sound of a body slumping to the floor._

* * *

 

Franziska, upon returning to the country after another stint with Interpol, insisted on visiting his grave. An unopened package of Swiss Rolls balanced on gravestone; Edgeworth had to breathe deeply to suppress the whirl of emotions that were rising from the pit of his stomach.

There, Fransizka declared with just the hint of a waver in her voice, “Only foolish fools would allow mortality to hinder their pursuit of perfection!” 

Edgeworth wasn’t sure whom she addressed—the late detective or Edgeworth himself.

He didn’t care.

He left.

* * *

 

_“Mr. Edgeworth?!” Gumshoe’s voice rang through the parking lot._

_Edgeworth was torn between relief that the detective seemed unhurt and annoyance that he just gave his position away to a potential criminal._

_Shoes clicked deliberately across the pavement, and a flashlight shone right in his face. The prosecutor squinted at the light and shielded his eyes with his hands. He stared at Landon Vance, a person he hadn’t thought of for 10 years. Ever since he put him away for a particularly heinous double homicide._

_“You haven’t changed your cologne in 10 years, Miles Edgeworth.” Vance’s sneer was outlined with the lines on his face, ones he undoubtedly picked up in prison. “Made it easy to find you in the dark.”_

* * *

 

He passed Detective Ema Skye in the hall one day. They stopped and stared at each other. Looking into her face was like looking into guilt-ridden mirror. They both opened their mouths to say something, but neither could spit any words out.

After a moment of silence that hung heavily between them, they both walked away.

* * *

 

_Edgeworth’s gaze shifted to the hand not holding the flashlight. Vance held a sharp knife in his hand, and he was advancing._

_“Mr. Edgeworth!” Gumshoe cried._

__The flashlight was knocked out of Vance’s hand, breaking it. Edgeworth heard a scuffle in the dark._ _

_“What the hell’s going on?” another voice said. Edgeworth presumed it to be another security guard._

_“Get the lights on,” Edgeworth ordered. “And get some back-up!”_

_“Right away sir.”_

* * *

 

The first day Klavier Gavin, a flashy young prosecutor whose idea of a “side hobby” was an internationally-acclaimed rock band, came to greet him as Chief Prosecutor, he gave his condolences for the late detective.

He was immediately dismissed from the Chief Prosecutor’s office with a clear invitation _not_ to hurry back.

* * *

 

_Edgeworth heard a soft grunt just as the lights went on._

_Vance stood above Gumshoe, his knife held above his head._

_Kneeling on the ground, holding his side, was Gumshoe. The detective moved his hand from his wound and stared at his blood-drenched fingers._

* * *

 

Kay never mentioned Gumshoe to him, but Edgeworth noticed that a new package of Swiss Rolls would be sitting atop the gravestone each week. 

* * *

 

_“It’s not your fault, Mr. Edgeworth,” Gumshoe said softly._

_Two shots were fired from behind them, and Vance crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Edgeworth barely registered the blood running from the criminal’s bullet wounds._

_Some cops ran in to help them._

_“Get an ambulance,” Edgeworth said._

_“We’re on it, sir.”_

_“I’ll be okay,” Gumshoe insisted._

* * *

 

A week after the murder, Wright arrived at his office door holding a thermos. He hadn’t seen the defense attorney in at least two years by that point, but there he was. Jeans. Sweater. Stubble. The spiky points of his hair didn’t seem quite as lethal as they did in the courtroom.

Wright and his endless optimism was, perhaps, the last thing he wanted to be confronted with.

“I’m busy, Wright,” Edgeworth said, already closing the door on his former friend.

Wright narrowed his eyes in a way Edgeworth had never seen and positioned himself between the door and the frame so Edgeworth couldn’t close it.

“My daughter made some tea.” He shoved the metal thermos a few inches from Edgeworth’s nose. Startled, the prosecutor instinctively wrapped his fingers around the thermos in order to keep it from hitting his face.

“I don’t wish to converse about what happened.” Leave it to Phoenix Wright, defense attorney and bleeding heart extraordinaire, to use tea as an excuse to get Edgeworth to talk about his feelings.

“I didn’t ask about it.” Wright turned to leave, and Edgeworth stared at his back.

After a few steps, Wright said, “And it’s not your fault.”

Edgeworth slammed the door at his former friend’s back.

* * *

 

_“Get. An. Ambulance,” Edgeworth said to the police officers._

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Now.”_

_“The ambulance will be here in five minutes, sir.”_

_Edgeworth pulled the incompetent police officer by the collar so that their faces were inches away from each other. “Get it here faster.”_

_“I really can’t do that...“_

_“It’s really okay, pal. I’ll be okay.”_

* * *

 

He then returned to his desk and settled into his opulent chair. Unscrewing the top from the thermos, the prosecutor let Phoenix’s words settle into his bones.  _It’s not your fault_.

Logically, he knew this.

It was something that happened to law enforcers. Being killed in the line of duty was a hazard that everyone understood. It wasn’t a pleasant hazard, but it happened.

It just wasn’t supposed to happen to Dick Gumshoe.

* * *

 

_Edgeworth dropped the police officer and walked to Gumshoe’s side. He knelt on one knee next to the detective and picked up the pencil that was eternally tucked behind Gumshoe’s ear._

_“You seem to have dropped your pencil, Detective.”_

_“Are you okay, sir?” Gumshoe lay on the concrete, holding his hand to the wound._

_“I’m fine, thank you.”_

* * *

 

A year after Gumshoe’s death, Edgeworth had a knock at his office door.

When he opened it, he saw Maya Fey toting a greasy paper bag. She was a bit older now; she matured into a woman, but her face still featured that thousand-watt smile she always wore, even at times when life insisted on throwing heartbreak and pain at her.

It was a smile that he never appreciated until now.

“Long time no see,” she said. “I brought some burgers.”

“Thank you, Ms. Fey. But I’m not really hungry right now.”

Maya shrugged and handed him the package. “You can eat it later. And he says, ‘It’s not your fault. Don’t keep blaming yourself, pal.’”

“Wright already told me that last year.” 

Maya’s smile seemed to soften a bit. It was edged with a tired sadness that she always seemed to harbor just below the surface. “When have you ever heard Nick say, ‘pal?’”

* * *

 

_Edgeworth sat next to Gumshoe’s stretcher in the cramped ambulance. His hand rested on Gumshoe’s arm._

_“Tell Maggey I’m sorry I missed our date.”_

_The ambulance’s wail seemed miles away as they rushed through the city._

_“Dick Gumshoe, I will reduce your salary if you expire.”_

_“I guess... I better not die then. I can barely afford noodles now.”_

_Each word was labored and barely rose over a whisper._

_Dick Gumshoe never made it to the hospital._

* * *

 

Miles shut the door behind her and sunk into his couch. He placed the greasy bag on his coffee table and buried his face in his hands.

And for the first time since that day, he let himself cry.

 


End file.
